


Lovely Choice, Puppet

by StarlightXNightmare



Series: Septic Egos [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Anti Is His Own Warning, Blood, Bruises, Carving Words into Skin, Casual Talk of Torture, Choking, Crying, Emotional Abuse, Hair Pulling, Horror, Humiliation, Mentions Of Physical Beatings, Mentions of Nightmares, Mentions of Past and Current Injuries, Psychological Trauma, Strangulation, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats, hopelessness, mentions of abduction, no happy endings here, please read the tags, toture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightXNightmare/pseuds/StarlightXNightmare
Summary: No matter how much he tried to keep his breathing steady and how much he tried to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay, he could feel it—the shaking of his whole body as he fought to stifle his sobs and the painful stinging in his eyes he was forced to blink away. If he opened his mouth to answer, all that'd come out would be a broken sob.





	Lovely Choice, Puppet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/gifts).



> Boy howdy the rough draft for this took me a week to write, not even mentioning the three or four days to edit and refine this monster. This was a nightmare to edit by the way but I'm pretty proud of it.

Schneeplestein didn't know exactly where he was—all he knew was that it was dark. The room he was trapped in was devoid of any furniture and windows, the only door locked from the outside, the floor cold cement, and stone brick walls bare and white. The white walls kind of reminded him of the hospital he worked at—he'd give anything to be at the hospital rather than here. He'd give anything to be anywhere but here.

How he got there wasn't entirely clear either—his memory of the incident was a little fuzzy and in pieces. He knew he had been in the house alone, having gotten off early from his shift at the hospital. Jackie was out on patrol, Marvin was performing in France, Chase at the theater with his two kids who had requested Robbie's presence as well, and Jack and Signe were on a date. Everything had been fine until he had been assaulted by static, glitchy laughter.... Things after that were disjointed—panic, running to get the gun in Jackie's room, tackled to the ground just before the staircase, head hurt, hands around his throat, clawing wildly at the skin glitching in and out of reality, couldn't breathe! Then he woke up here—hands cuffed painfully tight behind his back with rope coiled around his ankles, a blindfold pulled over his eyes, something stuffed in his mouth, and something covering his ears, and lying on his stomach with his face pressed onto the cold cement.

He didn't know how long he'd been here either; time held no real meaning anymore—ironic seeing as he couldn't function properly without some kind of vague schedule before all this. Since there was no window, he couldn't keep track of the day and night cycles. It was a fifty-fifty chance of whether he decided to put the blindfold, gag, and earmuffs back on him, and his sleep schedule wasn't a good way to track time anyways considering he could sleep for many hours or none at all—not even counting the times where he passed out without wanting to. When he wasn't unconscious, he was laying in the position that hurt the least, either zoning out or counting silently.

In the beginning, he hated how dark it was in this room and how dark the blindfold made it look even when the light was—not so much as it scared him (though it did) but rather the fact that he was vulnerable. Vulnerable without his sight and without his sight he couldn't know where he was, what he was doing, what was around him... what was lurking in the darkness. Now the dark was his only friend in this place—it wrapped him up in its cold embrace and held him close. While it may be chased away by the light, it always came back and comforted him.

There were hundreds of reasons he hated this place, and the biggest one was the light hanging from the ceiling. The light would flicker on and off, announcing the arrival of him. The sudden bursts of light made his head swim and his eyes burn. The hum of the light only further reminded him of the static always present with his captor's presence. It drove the only thing that seemed to care about him away and brought the monster from his nightmares to him. Too bad his nightmares seemed to be real.

The hope that the others would come and rescue him had pretty much died after so much time in this place. He had gotten rid of the card Marvin had given him meant to track him if he ever ended up in a situation like this sometime before he first woke up here. They probably had no idea what happened to him. The thought was enough to make his eyes sting.

He was right: they probably gave up looking for him ages ago. Why would they want to find him? He was an overly emotional, stubborn, useless mess whose only redeeming quality was that he happened to be a somewhat competent surgeon (the whispers of his failures lurked in his mind, reminding him of all the patients he'd failed). He couldn't fight—he was weak—and all he was was deadweight to the group.

None of those things stopped the others from caring about him though—he could tell. It was in the way Jackie carried him to his bedroom when he passed out at his desk while talking to the hero in the early hours of the morning. It was in the way Marvin allowed him—albeit begrudgingly—to take off his mask and trace over his scars. It was in the way Chase brought him coffee on the days when he fell asleep at his desk. It was in the way Robbie always asked him about his day and listened to him rant about the incompetence of his coworkers. It was in the way Jack always got him to look on the bright side of things. It was in the way Signe always struck up a conversation with him when they saw each other.

While the glitch and his mind told him they'd never even search for him in the beginning, his subconscious would always protest that that wasn't true. That they'd look for him. That they'd be devastated over his disappearance. That they'd go to any extent to get him back.

Which was why the demon used that knowledge against him.

It was no secret the demon could enter others' minds and control their nightmares. He just didn't know that the demon was capable of giving people good dreams—not just nightmares. He couldn't count how many times he'd dream of one of the others saving him—sweeping him up into their arms, resting their forehead against his, telling him everything was okay only to wake up with his cheek pressed against the cold cement, hands cuffed behind his back in the room he was trapped in. Those dreams seemed to rattle him even more than the nightmares more often than not; the pleasant dreams reduced him to a sobbing and shaking mess as he pleaded with the empty room around him for someone to come and save him.

He shifted, arms straining as the handcuffs dug into his raw, bleeding wrists. It was unsurprisingly cold in the room—with no windows and the only door shut nearly all the time—and the concrete floor only made it worse. His sweater and white coat had been discarded, lying in another corner of the room though they wouldn't have helped much anyway—they both were torn up in multiple spots and soaked in his own blood. On top of being cold, all of his injuries were beginning to flare up now that he had moved a bit. Splotchy bruises all over his body were sore and ached fiercely, cuts and lacerations scabbed over and he could feel the the scabs pull when he moved, throat was so dry that swallowing was nearly impossible at this point, the wound on the back of his head throbbed painfully, and his left leg was twisted in a way legs shouldn't be twisted.

A sudden burst of light seared his eyes, forcing him to reflexively curl in on himself as he hissed. He ignored the new wave of pain the last movement brought, already feeling each of the individual cuts between the knobs of his spine stretch, scabs pulling and breaking open, letting new crimson rivulets spill onto his bloodied skin. His heart rate skyrocketed, partly because of the surprise but mostly because of what the light signaled.

He was coming.

Schneep couldn't help but curling in on himself tighter, dull gray blue eyes squeezing shut. Hands trembled weakly, jaw clenching tight as the buzzing hum from the lights grew, the dark and light clashing violently for control. Icy tendrils of fear coiled around his heart and traveled up his throat. His throat closed up, the lump lodged in the center making it impossible to swallow properly. His mind had all but shut down—the only thought in his head being: hopelessness, fear, anxiety, despair, desperation—

The door unlocked with a click and squeaky hinges groaned in protest as the door was opened.

Normally he'd have something to say—snarky, malicious, sarcastic, gleeful—but today there was nothing. The door was shut gently and the only sound that shattered the silence were slow, deliberate footsteps. Schneep put all of his focus into trying to keep his breathing under control, eyes squeezed shut so tight they hurt.

It took him longer than normal to get to his side, and he could feel the shift in the sair next to him, uncomfortably close to his middle back. The fact that he was so close to him was enough to make him want to cry but he wouldn't—he's already cried an embarrassing amount of times in front of the glitch.

For what felt like an eternity—it was only a minute or two in reality—all was silent. He didn't make any noise other than the ever present static ringing around him. The silence was just as scary—if not worse—than the demon's voice.

Suddenly Schneep felt a hand card through his greasy, knotted locks. He jolted hard, attempting to wriggle away from the touch only for the hand to bury itself into his hair, tangling the overgrown hair around its fingers. A sharp yank was administered, the tug pulling his head hack at a painful angle, exposing his throat. He yelped, the noise sounding like a hybrid between pain and surprise.

"̶L̷o̴o̴k̸ ̶a̴t̷ ̵m̸e̵,̸"̴ a low, glitchy voice demanded, the tone rasping in a way that hurt Schneep's own throat.

He made a weak noise in the back of his throat, the sound barely escaping his clenched teeth. His eyes remained squeezed shut, too afraid to do so as the demon wanted. His shoulders shook with repressed sobs, chest shuddering as he struggled to keep his breathing from hitching.

A harder pull on his hair made him cry out and a hand wrapped itself around his throat, tightening immediately with claws sinking into the fragile flesh. His eyes snapped open as a strangled scream tore itself from his spasming throat. His eyes met the furious, cold black ones hovering above him. A snarl twisted the demon's normally smirking smile.

"̷͎̋I̵̹͂ ̵͊͜s̴̟̏a̴̜ị̵͌ď̴̪:̶̣ ̶̲̀'̵͍͘L̶͕̋Ȍ̶̧O̴͚͛K̶͒ͅ ̸͚̒A̴͓T̷̼̐ ̴̳̕Ḿ̵̬Ë̴͓́!̵̼́'̶̟́"̶͎̚ He screamed, his voice rising an octave as another voice went lower.

Everything was a little blurry without his glasses but he could still see the face so similar to his friends' and his own a few inches from his face. That's when he saw it. Blood dripped down from a gash on his forehead, rolling down his bruised cheek. It appeared that a few of his fangs had been knocked out and new ones were growing back in their place. The sight alone was enough to make Schneep sick with dread—the glitch was always in a bad mood when he got back from a fight with Jackie, mainly because he hated being bested by someone who didn't have proper superpowers.

 "̷Y̵o̷u̴r̸ ̸l̶i̴t̸t̷l̸e̷ ̶h̵e̷r̴o̶ ̸f̶r̸i̴e̸n̵d̷ ̵i̵s̴ ̴b̵e̴i̸n̶g̴ ̵q̸u̴i̶t̵e̶ ̴t̶h̵e̷ ̶p̶a̸i̵n̵ ̷i̷n̷ ̴t̴h̶e̸ ̸a̶s̶s̸,̶"̸ the demon hissed, teeth bared in annoyance. Something in his eyes glittered dangerously. "̴S̸o̶ ̴w̶e̴'̵r̵e̵ ̸g̵o̴i̶n̵g̷ ̵t̴o̸ ̷t̸r̸y̷ ̵s̸o̷m̸e̵t̵h̶i̴n̷g̷ ̶n̸e̵w̸.̸"̵ ̵

Schneep tried to shrink away but a strong jerk on his hair kept him close to the demon. He didn't want to do something new; he couldn't handle the things they were doing now but at least he knew somewhat to expect. Something new wasn't something he was familiar with and unfamiliarity was bad. Too bad he didn't really get a say in any of this.

 "̶E̶v̶e̴r̶y̶ ̴t̷i̵m̷e̴ ̶y̶o̸u̵r̶ ̶l̷i̷t̵t̸l̶e̶ ̴h̶e̵r̶o̸ ̶f̵r̴i̶e̷n̵d̷ ̴h̴i̸t̶s̸ ̶m̷e̷,̵ ̷y̴o̷u̶ ̶w̴i̴l̵l̶ ̷g̷e̸t̵ ̶h̴i̶t̴ ̴i̸n̷ ̷r̴e̴t̴u̴r̶n̸.̷"̷ ̵

He couldn't help the distressed sound he made—he's treated Jackie after his infamous fights with the glitch. Their fights got vicious on both sides, Jackie fighting back against the demon just as fiercely as the demon with him. If the glitch hurt him as many times as Jackie hurt him, he probably wouldn't survive. The demon could take much more of a beating than he could.

"̸A̵n̵d̸ ̸d̴o̸n̷'̴t̶ ̴w̵o̶r̸r̸y̷ ̸y̸o̸u̵r̴ ̴p̴r̶e̶t̵t̶y̴ ̶l̶i̴t̸t̵l̸e̴ ̷h̸e̷a̴d̸ ̵a̴b̴o̸u̸t̵ ̵n̵o̵t̴ ̷b̵e̸i̵n̵g̶ ̴a̷b̴l̷e̶ ̶t̸o̵ ̶s̴u̸r̸v̶i̷v̸e̴–̶"̵ ̶the demon said as if reading the other man's mind–"̴I̵'̵l̶l̴ ̶m̶a̷k̴e̴ ̶s̵u̴r̸e̸ ̷y̴o̶u̴ ̷d̷o̵.̶ ̵I̶t̶ ̴w̷o̸u̸l̵d̸n̸'̴t̸ ̸b̷e̵ ̵a̷n̴y̸ ̷f̴u̴n̵ ̵i̴f̵ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̸d̶i̴e̵d̴.̴"̴ ̵

Schneep wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. At this point he didn't care whether he survived this whole ordeal or not. Living or dying were both an option—though he was terrified about dying still. He was silently hoping that maybe Anti would lose control or overestimate how much he could take and accidentally off him. Then again a small part of him was still holding onto the idea that one of the others would save him.

"̷B̷e̴s̴i̷d̴e̴s̴,̵"̸ ̴ the glitch continued, "̷i̴t̶'̸d̵ ̶a̷b̷s̶o̸l̸u̷t̸e̷l̷y̸ ̴b̸r̶e̷a̷k̵ ̷h̵i̴m̸ ̴i̴f̴ ̶h̵e̴ ̵e̸v̵e̷r̸ ̷f̸i̷n̵d̴s̵ ̵o̷u̵t̷ ̴w̶h̷a̸t̵ ̵h̶e̵ ̸d̸o̸e̴s̶ ̸t̴o̴ ̷m̵e̵ ̶h̵a̵p̸p̵e̸n̸s̶ ̴t̷o̵ ̴y̴o̵u̶.̶ ̴D̶o̴ ̵y̴o̷u̵ ̴t̵h̴i̵n̸k̷ ̴h̷e̴'̴d̶ ̵s̶t̴o̵p̴ ̷f̷i̶g̵h̸t̷i̶n̷g̸ ̵m̷e̶ ̶a̴n̸d̷ ̸l̴e̷t̴ ̶m̷e̵ ̴d̷o̴ ̴w̷h̷a̷t̸e̸v̵e̴r̶ ̵I̷ ̶w̵a̴n̸t̶.̶.̷.̶ ̶t̵o̶ ̶p̴r̸o̶t̴e̶c̶t̵ ̴y̸o̵u̴?̷" His shining black eyes narrowed. "̴U̴n̴f̸o̸r̷t̶u̷n̷a̴t̸e̴l̵y̶ ̵w̷e̶ ̷c̸a̶n̵'̶t̵ ̵s̵t̸a̸r̸t̵ ̶t̶o̸d̶a̸y̴;̵ ̵I̶ ̵t̴h̸o̴u̷g̴h̷t̶ ̴o̴f̶ ̷t̶h̷i̵s̶ ̸a̸f̸t̶e̷r̵ ̸o̷u̷r̶ ̸f̴i̵g̸h̶t̵.̸"̸

His eyes shut briefly, a shudder running through his body as he let out a shaky exhale of relief.

The demon hummed thoughtfully to himself, fingertips lightly grazing the doctor's back, making him instinctively flinch. This time there was no harsh tug on his hair. He knew what the glitch was looking at. Feather light touches tracted the scars and wounds on his back.

 "̵S̵i̷n̴c̵e̴ ̴I̴'̷m̵ ̸f̴e̵e̷l̵i̴n̵g̶ ̶m̶u̴c̵h̸ ̸b̴e̸t̴t̷e̶r̷,̶ ̵I̴'̶l̵l̸ ̴l̴e̶t̶ ̶y̴o̸u̶ ̷c̷h̵o̴o̷s̷e̸ ̸w̵h̴a̸t̵ ̴w̵e̶'̴r̷e̶ ̸g̸o̸i̴n̵g̶ ̷t̸o̷ ̸d̸o̸.̷ ̷W̵o̸u̴l̶d̷ ̵y̷o̷u̴ ̶r̷a̸t̷h̶e̵r̸ ̵t̴r̷y̸ ̴a̵n̸d̶ ̵c̵a̷l̵l̵ ̴o̵u̸t̷ ̷f̵o̷r̴ ̵h̸e̵l̴p̴?̶ ̶O̶r̵ ̵w̶o̸u̶l̷d̸ ̷y̴o̷u̴ ̴r̶a̶t̸h̴e̸r̷ ̸I̴ ̷o̷p̸e̵n̴ ̷u̶p̷ ̴s̵o̸m̷e̵ ̵o̵f̴ ̵t̸h̵e̷ ̴o̴l̷d̵ ̵o̶n̷e̵s̴?̸"̵

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he took in a rattling breath. There was no way he was letting him choose. There was no way he could bring himself to choose. While it was beyond humiliating to scream for help that wasn't going to come only for it to get carved into his skin, the pain of him reopening several of his old scars and wounds were agonizing—no matter how many times it happened.

No matter how much he tried to keep his breathing steady and how much he tried to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay, he could feel it—the shaking of his whole body as he fought to stifle his sobs and the painful stinging in his eyes he was forced to blink away. If he opened his mouth to answer, all that'd come out would be a broken sob.

The demon beside him clicked his tongue. "̶H̸o̷w̴ ̵r̵u̵d̸e̸;̶ ̶I̴'̵m̴ ̶g̵i̴v̵i̶n̸g̵ ̵y̸o̵u̸ ̶a̴ ̷c̷h̶o̸i̷c̷e̶ ̵a̶n̴d̶ ̶y̵o̷u̴'̴r̵e̸ ̵j̷u̷s̸t̴ ̷i̵g̴n̶o̷r̵i̸n̸g̶ ̷m̸e̷?̶"̸ His voice rose. "̸͉͘W̴͎̓ȇ̵͉l̷̙̓l̵̨̔ ̸̹̓h̸̘̅o̵̩w̴̰̕ ̶͉á̶̦b̵̖̾o̷̯͒ǔ̸͕t̵͖̅ ̸̞̿I̶̪̔ ̸͉̕b̷͍̽e̴̼͂a̵͉̚t̴̢̋ ̴̨̉ẙ̷ͅô̸̥u̷̢͝ ̴͓͝u̵̔ͅñ̶͚t̸̡͗i̸̡̕l̷̳͒ ̷̟͝y̷̟͒ö̶͖́u̴͔̕ ̶̌ͅb̴̻̀e̶̲͒g̸͕ ̷̀͜f̶̹̂o̷͙r̸̺̒ ̸͉̋s̷̥͋o̴̫m̸̲͋e̵̹̍o̴͔̊ǹ̴͙ė̷̦ ̶̙̓t̷͖̓o̸̝̚ ̷̦̐ṣ̸͘a̸̡̿v̵̞̏ẻ̶̻ ̶̳͐y̴̘̏ơ̴̗u̸̩͠ ̸̱͊b̵̮͝e̴͎̓f̸̳̌o̷̖̐r̷͍͑ë̶͍́ ̸͔̐Ḯ̵̫ ̷̘̇o̵̤p̶̺̊e̶̩̚ň̴̖ ̸͙̇ḛ̸̿v̴̩́ẽ̴̼r̴͕̕ý̷̱ ̸͓͒o̶̼̐n̵̘̂e̴̠̿ ̷̡͠õ̵̠f̴͓ ̵̈͜y̶͚͝o̷̳̍ū̷̥r̵̟͝ ̵̻̏u̵̹̅g̴̫̈́l̷͉̾y̸̫̎,̴̝͋ ̵͓̓d̷́͜i̵͇̔s̴̈ͅg̴͖͂u̴̙͠s̴͇͋ẗ̶̪́i̸͇͝ṉ̵͛g̵̝͒ ̸̣͑w̴̻̐o̵͊͜ṷ̸̏n̷̨̆d̸̻͝s̸̗͊ ̶͎͋ȃ̸̦n̶̰ḏ̴͊ ̶̳̄c̸̗̽a̸͎̍r̸̗̓v̷̛͇e̵͕̕ ̷͇͘n̴̤̓e̷͉͋w̸̞̚ ̸̮̚ö̴̱́n̸̖͗ë̵̱s̸͚͋ ̵̜͝i̴͈͘n̸̡̈́!̵͈̿?̷̙͝"̶̬͘

His rising volume made Schneep flinch and curl further in on himself before he spoke for the first time in many days. "Nein nein!" He blurted, a choked sob escaping him. He couldn't see through his blurry vision but he could tell the demon's eyes were on him.

"̶S̷o̶ ̷y̷o̴u̵'̵v̸e̵ ̶f̴i̸n̴a̷l̸l̸y̷ ̶d̵e̶c̸i̶d̵e̷d̶ ̵t̴o̴ ̵s̷p̶e̴a̴k̷.̸.̴.̶ ̷W̴e̶l̶l̴ ̸'̶n̷o̶'̵ ̷w̸h̸a̸t̶?̵"̵ The demon asked. The feeling of something cold sliding down his back startled him—he hadn't noticed the knife. The knife pressed against his skin when he didn't answer right away.

He swallowed hard, the knife pressing harder made him force his words out. "Please don't. I will... I choose." His lashes were damp and heavy, clumped together with salty tears.

The demon's silence spurred him on.

"I'd rather you open up the old ones. Just... please do not make me call for help... please don't make me call for help," he sobbed, tears finally falling from his eyes. Between his blurry vision, he could see the demon grin widely, sharp, fang-like teeth flashing.

 "̵H̸a̸v̷e̷ ̵y̵o̶u̵ ̸f̴i̶n̷a̷l̷l̶y̷ ̵l̶e̷a̷r̵n̸e̸d̸ ̶t̴h̶a̶t̴ ̵n̸o̸ ̵o̷n̸e̴'̷s̶ ̶c̷o̵m̴i̵n̵g̶ ̷t̵o̷ ̷h̸e̷l̴p̴ ̶y̷o̷u̵?̵ ̵H̴a̷v̴e̷ ̵y̶o̵u̶ ̵f̸i̷n̸a̴l̷l̴y̴ ̸a̴c̵c̶e̵p̸t̵e̷d̵ ̴i̵t̵?̵ ̶H̵a̷v̴e̷ ̶y̸o̵u̷ ̵f̷i̴n̵a̷l̴l̵y̷ ̷a̸c̸c̶e̴p̸t̷e̵d̴ ̴t̶h̵a̷t̴ ̷c̷a̸l̶l̵i̵n̷g̴ ̸f̵o̶r̷ ̴h̸e̴l̶p̴ ̵i̶s̵ ̴a̸b̵s̵o̴l̴u̵t̵e̷l̸y̷ ̶u̷͎̽s̸̬̚e̸̤͋ḷ̵͝ę̴͑s̷̮̽s̸͖͑?̸̗̊"̷̱̓

Schneep nodded, tears continuing to fall from his eyes and run down his cheeks. The shame coursing through him made his cheeks burn but the fear was much stronger.

"̸W̵e̴l̷l̷ ̵s̴i̶n̵c̴e̴ ̷y̸o̷u̵ ̷a̵s̸k̵e̷d̶ ̴s̵o̸ ̸n̸i̴c̸e̸l̴y̸,̵"̸ the glitch started before trailing off, tilting his head to the side at an inhuman angle as he stared the doctor down. "̷Y̸o̶u̴ ̷c̵r̷y̵ ̶a̵n̷ ̶a̶w̵f̷u̴l̷ ̴l̸o̵t̵.̵.̷.̸"̸

Schneep closed his eyes tight, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He nearly screamed when cold metal rested on his cheek. The demon's free hand reached up and grabbed the underside of his jaw, claws digging into the very sides of his cheeks.

"̷S̷t̷a̴y̸ ̷s̷t̶i̷l̸l̸ ̷o̵r̵ ̶I̴'̷l̵l̶ ̸t̷a̸k̵e̵ ̵a̸w̴a̵y̵ ̶y̷o̵u̵r̴ ̵c̴h̶o̶i̵c̶e̶ ̵a̶n̵d̸ ̵d̶o̷ ̵w̸h̷a̵t̶e̵v̵e̸r̴ ̵I̴ ̵f̵e̸e̷l̴ ̴l̴i̴k̵e̶,̸"̷ he ordered, dragging the knife up to underneath his tear duct. Schneep couldn't help but tense at the action, brain short circuiting when the sharp object came so close to his eye. Slowly but surely the demon dug the metal blade into pale skin, ignoring the doctor's panicky gasps and squirms of discomfort. Once he deemed the cut went deep enough he drug the blade down Schneep's cheek slowly, making sure the line he was making curved down the wet streak on his face. 

Tears. He was carving the path of tears.

"̵I̵f̷ ̸y̷o̵u̸ ̷w̵o̸u̴l̸d̷ ̷r̸e̵l̴a̸x̵,̵ ̴i̶t̵ ̶w̴o̴u̴l̴d̶n̷'̵t̶ ̷h̷u̵r̵t̵ ̴a̶s̶ ̶m̸u̷c̷h̸,̷"̷ he mocked with a smirk. If anything the words only made him miss working even more—if possible.

The same thing was done to the other side of his face, and the demon sat back on his ankles, staring intently at his work. He was silent for a moment, simply watching the red bead up along the cuts and run down his face.

"̶T̵h̵e̵r̷e̷—̵m̴u̴c̸h̴ ̵b̴e̵t̷t̴e̸r̶.̸ ̵I̷t̶ ̷r̶e̷a̸l̷l̴y̵ ̷c̵a̷p̶t̴u̷r̷e̵s̵ ̸t̵h̷e̸ ̶l̵o̶o̵k̵.̶"̵ He tilted his head to the side. "̸D̸o̷n̶'̸t̷ ̸y̸o̵u̸ ̵t̷h̴i̴n̸k̵ ̵s̷o̴,̴ ̴d̵o̴c̸t̶o̵r̸?̴"̵

The cuts on his face stung as the salt from his tears mixed into the rips in his flesh. The only thing the cuts did was make his tears fall faster and further agitate the wounds, repeating the cycle over and over.

"̶I̸ ̵s̶a̶i̷d̴:̵ ̵'̸D̶o̷n̴'̶t̶ ̵y̴o̵u̶ ̵t̴h̸i̷n̸k̸ ̸s̴o̶,̶ ̵d̶o̶c̵t̸o̸r̵?̷'̷"̷ The glitch reiterated, claws sinking deeper into his cheeks, his tone revealing he was getting fed up with Schneep.

A nod and a quiet, teary agreement from the mentioned man calmed the demon considerably.

He hummed lightly, eyes focusing on Schneep's back. "̸N̸o̴w̷.̸.̵.̶ ̵w̷h̶i̷c̷h̵ ̵o̴n̸e̵ ̸w̴i̴l̶l̷ ̵w̴e̶ ̸s̵t̴a̶r̸t̴ ̸w̴i̶t̶h̵?̶"̵ He mused aloud. "̶T̷h̸e̴r̵e̵'̸s̵ ̸s̸o̴ ̷m̸a̴n̷y̸ ̶t̵o̸ ̵c̴h̴o̴o̶s̵e̴ ̵f̴r̷o̵m̵.̵"̷

That there were. While Schneep had felt the pain of every word—each letter—his memory of what exactly each word said and where it was eluded him. He knew there were several names and some words but he couldn't remember what else—didn't want to really. He only knew where a select few were.

"̷I̶ ̴t̴h̴i̸n̸k̴–̸"̷ the glitch tapped a spot between his shoulder blades–"̴w̸e̴'̸r̵e̸ ̷g̵o̸i̶n̵g̸ ̵t̶o̴ ̴s̶t̷a̵r̷t̷ ̷t̶h̵e̶r̸e̷.̴"̵ He spared a glance to the doctor. "̷D̵o̵ ̶y̵o̶u̴ ̵k̸n̵o̴w̶ ̸w̴h̵y̸?̵"̸

Schneep swallowed hard, eyes shutting involuntarily again. That was one of the few he actually knew. Big, jagged, ugly red lines that spelled out 'PUPPET.' At least he guessed that's what it looked like based on how it felt to have it sliced into him.

 "̷̯̈́I̶͙ ̷̛͍ę̸̄x̷̖͝p̷̡͝e̶̞c̸̮̈́ṭ̸̀ ̷̠́a̵̱͆n̴̺̑ ̴̻̔a̸̰͋n̴̢͆s̴̯͑w̸̘̅e̵͝ͅr̸̤̓.̴̘̓"̶̼̅

His throat was like sandpaper at this point and his voice was most likely wrecked but he forced himself to answer anyway, knowing that just staying silent wasn't an option this time. "Is... is what I am." His face heated up at how his voice broke but that wasn't what he should be focusing on now.

The glitch grinned, cupping a hand behind his ear. "̶W̴h̴a̸t̶ ̵a̵r̵e̵ ̵y̶o̸u̷?̸"̴ He enjoyed this too much and Schneep hated giving him the satisfaction but he wanted to avoid getting beat today—if he could.

He had to swallow the bile rising in his throat before he could choke out an answer. "Puppet."

"̴I̷'̶m̸ ̴s̴o̸r̶r̵y̶;̵ ̴I̷ ̸d̴i̸d̶n̵'̸t̴ ̴h̸e̸a̵r̶ ̴y̴o̵u̷.̶"̷ That stupid grin only widened.

Schneep forced his voice to raise. "Puppet."

 "̸I̶'̸m̴ ̵g̷o̴i̶n̴g̸ ̵t̷o̴ ̸n̶e̸e̵d̸ ̶m̵o̵r̶e̵ ̵t̸h̶a̷n̷ ̴t̵h̷a̶t̷.̷"̸

"I'm a puppet!" He wishes the glitch would kill him already—it'd be preferred at this point over admitting that he was what the demon always called him.

"̵Y̵o̶u̷ ̸f̴i̶n̸a̸l̸l̶y̵ ̵l̸e̷a̴r̴n̷e̵d̵.̴.̵.̴ ̸d̷i̸d̸n̷'̶t̷ ̸t̴h̵i̷n̶k̸ ̶y̵o̷u̸ ̵c̴o̷u̷l̸d̶ ̴t̶o̵ ̶b̸e̵ ̷h̸o̷n̸e̵s̵t̸.̵"̷ The cold metal traced lightly over the first letter. "̵Y̸o̷u̷ ̵s̸u̸r̵e̷ ̵y̷o̷u̵ ̴d̷o̷n̴'̴t̵ ̶w̵a̴n̶t̷ ̵t̷o̶ ̴c̵a̵l̵l̴ ̵f̴o̵r̷ ̴h̷e̵l̷p̵?̷"̷

A nod. They weren't going to come anyway. Nobody knew where he was. They all probably thought he was dead by now.

The demon's grin couldn't possibly go any wider. "̵̡̋Ḻ̶͛o̵͍͋v̶͍̓e̸͕͒l̵̛̜y̵̥͒ ̵͚̉c̸̯͝h̸̭͠o̸̪͗i̴̲͠c̸͎̄e̸̗͋,̶͍̅ ̶̲͐p̶͎͑u̴̥̔p̶̻͊p̴̱͝e̸̻͝t̸̛̞.̷̫͗"̴̬̐

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did well portraying both Schneep and Anti—mainly Anti though since Schneep is a bit out of ("normal") character. Anti may be a heartless demon but he tends to follow his own rules. Believe it or not he was actually pretty merciful and in a good mood in this one.
> 
> Shoutout to Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1) on Ao3 and their Tumblr account septic-dr-schneep. I love their fics (and how they portray each of the egos)—especially the ones with Schneep regarding what happened in those 9 months he was missing and afterwards.


End file.
